Standard disclaimers apply here.
Note: This is a collection of short, mostly unconnected one-shots. They're under one heading because I intend to write a lot of them and don't want to spam the page. The prompts are taken from all over the place, but this isn't for a writing challenge. memento vivere means "a reminder of life/remember that you have to live/remember to live/etc." I've been wanting to change the title for awhile, and I just liked this.
Prompt: blank slate.
Post-war. tabula rasa means "blank slate" in Latin. The idea here is that they're in a remote French village (unnamed because it was too difficult to choose one and to know how small they are); also, that Tiedoll taught them French at some point (I like to think he did teach Kanda some French). The French is there because it was part of the inspiration, past the initial imaging of them moving to the village. Also, it's an attempt to be authentic...I guess. I put the translations after for easier reading. Thanks to Cat for helping and putting up with my incessant questions. (Excuse the overuse of pronouns. The semicolons are from reading Jane Eyre. I tend to incorporate bits of the writing style of what I'm reading into what I'm writing.) Feedback would be lovely.
tabula rasa
"D'où venez-vous?" (Where are you from?) It was the third time that day someone had asked them that. It wasn't surprising, since they had come into the town suddenly and hadn't ventured out of their small house much until now.
"De nulle part," (Nowhere) was his terse reply. The woman wasn't put off like the other two were by this response. She stared at him and waited for a different, better answer.
"Nous prenons un nouveau départ," (We're making a fresh start) Lenalee explained with a smile, and the woman nodded at that, somewhat satisfied. She paused, thinking of what she wanted to ask next.
"Vous êtes-vous enfouis?" (Did you elope?) She shifted uncomfortably at this; admitting they weren't married when they were living together would surely reflect badly on them…but what was there to say?
"On n'est pas mariés." (We're not married.) Kanda answered for her with an absolute lack of finesse. So much for that. She sighed and chanced a look at the woman they had been speaking to; she appeared to be middle aged, with a few streaks of silver in her dark hair and lines on her forehead and around her eyes. Said eyes were wide at that moment, and she looked quite scandalized.
"Mais…vous vivez ensemble." (But…you live together.) Lenalee didn't know what to say in response. She couldn't deny that; they had been in that house together for a few weeks, each venturing out separately when need called for it. Today was the first time they left the little home together.
"Occupe-toi de tes affaires." (Mind your own business.) Again, Kanda had a short, rude reply. Lenalee turned to him and glared. He had scared away the previous two people who had tried to talk to them, and now there was this.
"Didn't I tell you to keep yourself in check?" She lapsed into English because it was her familiar scolding medium. "I wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, and you told me you would watch yourself." He looked resolutely away and she wanted to yell at him but didn't want to make a scene.
"Why do you care what she thinks?" he responded to her quietly, still staring at the mountains in the distance. Lenalee glanced over at the woman in question, who appeared bewildered; it seemed that she didn't understand English.
"I'm not sure I do," she admitted, but then said, "En fait, nous sommes mariés." (Actually, we are married.) Kanda looked back at her, surprised at this announcement. The woman let out a breath, relieved for some reason. This was not enough to completely get rid of her, of course.
"Où sont vos alliances?" (Where are your wedding rings?) Kanda became more irritated as the discussion of this subject continued.
"Chez moi," (At home) he snapped, and instead of waiting for the woman to say, "Je voudrais les voir," (I would like to see them) as she most likely would have, he grabbed Lenalee's arm and dragged her away. She pulled it out of his grasp after a few steps, frowning at him.
"Pardon!" (Sorry!) she called over her shoulder to the woman who had been asking them so many questions. The woman didn't seem to know what to say or do, but as they moved farther away, Lenalee heard her call a name and knew what she was going to talk about.
Her mood, which had been good when they left the house that morning, darkened. He said and did nothing, neither lifting nor worsening her disposition. They were not bothered much anymore the rest of that day; people sensed her irritation and chose not to approach them. This only upset her more, because they hadn't come out to avoid people. She knew that Kanda kept looking over at her, but she never returned his gaze; it was because of him that she had to attempt to smooth things over, but in the end he ruined that as well. So much for making a good first impression.
When they returned home, Lenalee immediately went into the bedroom and slammed the door. Alone with her thoughts, she went over the day's events; frustration ebbed and flowed inside of her, and tears joined the cycle after awhile.
His idea. His choice. Everything about this is his. He keeps screwing it up, even though it was his idea. But…I agreed. I wanted to do this, too. I have nothing but this now.
She was aware of noise in the kitchen, but paid little attention to it.
Later, the door opened and Kanda walked in, carrying a tray with two bowls on it. Lenalee had been reclining on the bed at that point, almost asleep, stripped down to her underwear. This made him pause for a moment, but he collected his thoughts quickly and continued into the room. She enjoyed the effect she had on him, though she knew if she had caught him in a similar state, her reaction wouldn't have been much different.
"What is that?" she asked, eyeing the steaming bowls. She had been hungry but didn't want to leave the room; she had still been mad. When he strode in, however, it all seemed to disappear, despite her best efforts to stay angry with him. (The fact that he brought her food may have helped, just a little.)
"Soup." She tried to give him a look of exasperation but couldn't keep the smile off her face; she found it amusing for some reason. He set the tray down and left the room, but came back immediately with two large slices of bread. He returned to the bedside table where the soup sat, still steaming, and handed her a bowl (which she set aside because it was so hot) and piece of bread. After doing this, he took the other bowl and got on the bed beside her.
"We shouldn't eat in bed." She made no move to get up.
"Why?" He had already torn a chunk out of the bread and dipped it in the soup.
"There will be crumbs everywhere." Nonetheless, she followed suit.
"Then we'll take the sheets and shake them out." Again Lenalee tried to look stern but ended up laughing. There was something near amusement on Kanda's face as well, and she felt content.
"I'm sorry about earlier," she said, blowing on her soup; how could he be eating it when it was so hot? He didn't say anything, just shrugged. She knew he had accepted the apology. He didn't offer one in return, but she figured the food he brought was meant to serve that purpose. She continued, "It wasn't really important what she thought, but this is such a small village that it's best not to give the wrong impression to anyone."
"Why does it matter what other people think?" This question was directed at the wall, which he had been staring at while they spoke.
She tried to choose her words carefully. "We came here to get a new start, yes? But we can't rely solely on each other forever. That is to say," (the scowl he was giving the wall was very unpleasant) "there should be other people in our lives. Friends are important; you know how I feel about that. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life here with you, but I need friends, too."
Kanda turned to Lenalee with an expression on his face that she could not place. For as long as they had been there, they hadn't said anything like that, though it was a given. It hadn't even been uttered when he'd asked her to come away with him now that the war was over, he had sorted his problems out, and she had no home (because that had been the Order, and the building no longer stood) or family (her brother had disappeared shortly before everything had settled down; she liked to think he was still out there somewhere, but there had been no sign of him for months before they left, and surely if he was alive he wouldn't have abandoned her).
"Fine," he muttered at length, turning back to his cooling soup. She didn't know what he had been referring to when he said that, but decided it was meant as a response to everything. In return, she set her soup aside again, made sure it wouldn't be upset when she moved, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. The slight blush that bloomed there in reaction to it made her smile once more, and she sat back, taking her soup bowl and placing it in her lap.
En fait, il n'y avait aucun autre endroit où elle aurait préféré être. (In fact, there was nowhere else she would rather be.)